Today I discovered I'm a masochist.
It's January and we are all poor (and by we I mean you are too). Of course, some of you might be doing just fine thank you very much, but as my blog readers are mainly writers I'm assuming you're poor too or at least vowing not to spend so much at Christmas again. I've vowed that several times since Boxing Day, but I won't stick to it. I never stick to it.
Anyhow, onto the masochism business. My Bestwick is always
Having built up a massive nest egg of £25, we headed to the supermarket. But I want to pretend I'm playing Supermarket Sweep, my subconscious cried. Then, because I have super powers, I pulled out my list and a pen to mark the price of everything and began to have fun. I appreciate that this makes me a very sad person. Supermarket saver brands were bought (of which there will possibly be forthcoming rants about or exclamations of 'it tastes just the same') and I was eventually unglued from the pricey Eve's Pudding, only to find we returned home with money in our pockets.
I am totally rocking this. Next month I think I'll try £5 a day.
This time next year we'll be millionaires.